The Wolf Among Us: Unexpected Vacations
by Rebel-Renegade-Fett
Summary: Two months after the events of 'Wolf Among Us', Bigby Wolf is tired of being overworked and underappreciated. Having had enough of the abrassive comments from friend and foe alike, he sets off on a well-needed vacation. Can the inhabitants of Fabletown cope without their rough Sheriff? Will they finally realise the hardwork Bigby does? Bigby certainly isn't waiting to find out.
1. Chapter 0, Part I

**A/N**

 **Hello, to a new short story I'm currently working on in lead up to my actual TWAO seasom 2 story. It's pretty much going to be a lot more light hearted than you would maybe anyicipate for TWAO, but that would change when the sequal to this comes out. anyway, this set 2 months after the events of the game, so please enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 0: Howling Point, Part I**

"So, here I am, a law-abiding citizen, paying my taxes and contributing to society with grace and altruism, when the business office told me I'm not eligible for a measly sum of money to help invest into my business. I mean, it's such a small amount of money for a huge amount of improvements in my profits, and thus, more taxes. It's only fifty thousand dollars. I'm sure Bluebeard could afford to gi- aid me in my ventures."

"Jack... you do know... I'm the Sheriff, right?"

"Yes, that's _why_ I came to you... it's such a terrible injustice."

"Fuck... off."

Not completely taken aback by the rudeness of the Sheriff's refusal, the blonde man sighs heavily and dramatically, standing up from his chair on the opposite side of the Sheriff's desk.

"With that... you should really learn how to speak to people properly," his guest tentatively comments, scratching his chin with a hesitant nervousness.

"Fuck... off... _please_ ," the Sheriff repeats, making sure to emphasise the annoyance he's currently feeling in his addition.

"I guess I'll take my complaints elsewhere," the hopeless blond states with wounded pride on his face, hoping to save some shred of dignity from the exchange.

"You do that," the rude Sheriff mumbles to himself as the blonde quickly leaves the room, door calmly closing behind him.

Finally, he can gather enough silence to manufacture some form of peace within his humble office, albeit the ridiculously odorous smell of Jack's aftershave somehow lingers within the air. As usual, he was wearing a sickly sweet fragrance of summer flowers, mixed with hundreds of years of failure and unfounded optimism.

Jack Horner may be one of the least dangerous inhabitants of Fabletown, but it definitely doesn't make him the least annoying. The Sheriff doesn't believe there's a person inside of this miserable community who actually considers Jack a delight to be around, least of all the Sheriff. A thinly woven line of paperwork and the scorn of the Deputy Mayor is what keeps him from absolutely ripping the man to shreds, quite literally.

Even his damned face is annoying. With the blonde ponytail, and that smug, irritating smile, which Jack wears pretty much every time he speaks- as though he is the smartest one in the room, and knows the secrets of the universe itself- this particular man is a direct personification of hubris and arrogance, which normally wouldn't annoy the Sheriff to the point of almost launching him down the witching well, but then the community conman opens his mouth with delusions of unforetold riches.

The Sheriff has no time for promises. He barely has enough minutes left in the morning to put on some deodorant, let alone solve all the ridiculous problems the denizens of Fabletown seemingly sprout from their daily lives like a chicken lays an egg.

It was only this morning when Johann the butcher somehow managed to wedge one of his knives inside of his cranium whilst mundies were stood watching in horror. The Sheriff spent twenty minutes yanking on the knife, pretending it was all some kind of magic trick, until he managed to dislodge the knife and then had to spend another thirty minutes tying up the mundies whilst he went to the thirteenth floor to acquire a memory wipe potion.

Being the Sheriff has a lot of downsides: terrible pay, constant scorn for enforcing the rules, absolutely no recognition whatsoever, and of course, the usual violent encounters with drunk Fables, which normally end up with Snow chastising him, for some reason or other.

In fact, now that he's thinking about it, there's not actually any good sides to the job. He's only really here doing this because no-one else would.

Fantastic. Another reason he now hates the job.

His annoyed mental ramblings is interrupted by a few sharp knocks on the window of his office door; peace inside of this room lasts even shorter than one of his cigarettes, it seems.

"Come on in," he groans.

The door opens to reveal Beauty, clad in her usual red office attire, and blonde, healthy hair let loose and flowing around like a waves in the ocean. Her soft, feminine face conveys her normal sense of sharp duty, eyes focused clearly on the task at hand.

Still, there is a reason she's called Beauty, and it's because she's absolutely stunning.

Even the Sheriff can admit that.

"The Deputy Mayor wants to see you," she professionally informs, not even stepping inside of the office, instead eyeing over the decadent state of the room with a disgusted twinge to her otherwise glamorous face.

"Okay, let m-"

"Now," she sternly interrupts, giving him no choice in the matter, as usual.

Ever since the ordeal with the Crooked Man and Beauty's incredibly large debts and lavish lifestyle, Snow gave her the job as her assistant, which once upon a time, he would have gladly taken. But, she seems to be taking her position a lot more seriously than he anticipated, ordering him around from one place to another at the Deputy Mayor's behest.

However, to argue would be pointless, since he has nothing else to do apart from help Fables find their toothpaste in the morning.

Standing up from his relatively comfortable chair, he stretches out and straightens his tie. Another, more professional man would also tuck his shirt in, but that's just a bit too far for him.

Exiting his room and entering the hallway outside, he relegates himself to following Beauty, as she writes down things on her notepad with a furious tenacity.

A part of him wonders if the pen would hold up against the Fable's ruthless scribbling, but, he quickly comes to the conclusion he's simply trying to take his mind off his completely miserable life.

Only taking them a few short minutes to reach the entrance to the Business Office, Beauty opens the door and ushers him in, making sure to carefully close the door afterwards.

"Nice to see you, Bigby," Bufkin greets from his perched place on Snow's desk. "You look horrible."

Contenting himself with glaring ferociously at the green, flying Fable, his victim lets out a quiet whimper and flies off.

Stood beside her desk is the Deputy Mayor herself, talking to someone on the phone with her back turned to the Sheriff and Beauty, obviously quite embroiled in her conversation.

Without exchanging words with her boss, Beauty rushes over to the desk, picking up a file and rushing back over to the Sheriff, pretty much throwing it into his hands.

"A list of tasks to be fulfilled from Mrs White," the assistant states, beckoning for him to leave.

Bemused, he doesn't even remember walking outside of the office when he hears the door close behind him, and he finds himself stood out in the hallway with the file in hand.

Quite annoyed she didn't even acknowledge his presence, he pinches the bridge of his nose, and sighs deeply, counting to three inside his head.

"Chop chop, doggy," the familiar voice of Jack mocks from his right, as the blonde Fable stands by the door, waiting for his appointment. "Wouldn't want to keep your owner waiting."

"You've got five seconds to leave."

"I'm waiting for my a-"

"I'll break you in half."

"I'm leaving."


	2. Chapter 0, Part II

**A/N**

 **I'm so terribly sorry for the long wait. An excrutiating mix of irl work and meticulous house moving problems kept me waving a white flag. No matter, onwards and upwards asthey say!**

* * *

 **Chapter 0: Howling Point, Part II**

Days like these actually make him wish that he was back at the Homelands, and those days were a mixture of eternal torment and endless hunger.

Every week, Snow throws a huge list of administrative duties he has to fulfil, ranging from filing reports and making sure everyone who should be sent to the Farm, is. Despite being the so-called Sheriff, she treats him like a glorified secretary at times, and he thought that was Beauty's job.

Standing outside of his homely, yet absolutely tiny apartment, he unlocks and opens the door to find a golden-haired woman lying down on his favourite chair, clearly asleep.

"Get the fuck out of my apartment, Goldilocks!" he yells at the top of his lungs, so loud that he's sure the entire Woodlands can hear him.

Both shocked and distraught from the sudden arousal, Goldilocks scrambles out of his apartment, a trail of tears flooding out of her eyes as she escapes. Unfortunately, he highly doubts anyone will forget this, since the residents of the Woodlands tend to nail his backside to the wall at every available opportunity.

They can have a victim of a murder screaming next door, and they wouldn't even register a complaint. The Sheriff yells once during a football game, and they gather their pitchforks and attempt to burn his evil life down. Everyone and everything has it out for the Sheriff these days, and it's a calming sensation. When all people feel towards him is hatred and fear, it gives him the opportunity to intimidate them to leave him alone, for a short while, before the newest endeavour to crucify him occurs.

Being formerly known as the Big Bad Wolf has a few distinct consequences; Fables retreating into timidness at his mere presence is one of them. Trolls go from loud and warmongering to shy and quiet, glamoured Fables avert their gaze and hide away their faces, and even people the Sheriff considers relative acquaintances do their best to evade his attention.

"Really, Bigby?" the dreaded voice of Colin the pig calls out from his kitchen, followed by the recognisable sound of the fridge door closing.

Coming out of the kitchen with a beer bottle dangling from his mouth, he shimmies over to his usual place of residence by the TV and makes himself comfortable, dropping the bottle.

Realising he shouldn't really be surprised that Colin has once again escaped the confides of the Farm, he shakes his head begrudgingly and likewise makes himself comfy by plopping down on his chair.

"You could have just nudged the poor girl," Colin finishes off what he was undoubtedly going to say a few moments earlier. "Then again, I guess it's her fault for choosing to stay in your apartment- of all the Fables. Me, I'd relax inside of Beauty and the Beast's room, now that's a nice place... no offence."

"Whatever," the Sheriff groans, fixing his attention on the filthy TV, despite it being turned off as per usual.

"What? No snippy remarks or threats? Come on, Bigby, what's on that mind of yours?" Colin asks, popping off the beer cap with his teeth, and taking an awkwardly inconvenient swig by biting down on the neck and angling his head back.

"Am I an idiot?" Bigby responds, examine the confusion and awkwardness on the pig's face.

"To be honest with you, if you have to ask that, I'd say you were," he answers, shaking his head disbelievingly, "listen pal, you are the Sheriff for a reason: you are both smart and willing to do what it takes to complete the job. If anything, I'd wager you were a lot smarter than the do-gooding halfwits at the top ranks. But, you do have one legendary short temper though."

Taking a moment to ponder and reflect, the pig's face slowly but surely turns into a mosaic of excited twitches and wry smiles. It's enough to bring Bigby's ego crashing to the ground.

 _This can't be good_ , he thinks to himself.

"You know what you need pal?" the pig smiles.

"To take you back to the farm?" the Sheriff responds icily, at least attempting to shut down whatever the pig is contemplating before it exits his mouth.

"Threats was never your strong suit Bigby, but action is. So... how about we have a little action to ourselves, huh?"

Before Bigby could answer, the pig quickly interrupts.

"Sorry, that came out wrong," he winces at the implication. "What I'm trying to say is: me and you, we're going on vacation."

Silence envelops the room.

Bigby bursts out laughing with what's probably the first time he has genuinely done so in a few hundred years at the mere suggestion of the two travelling around and 'seeing the world'."

It takes the wolf more than a few minutes to recompose himself, his full-bodied laugh reducing itself to a few painful chuckles, before completely dying out with an amused shake of his head.

"I'm being serious," Colin mutters.

"I know," the Sheriff replies, calming his chest and taking a few sharp breaths, "that's why it was so funny."

"Think about it Bigby, me and you, drinking all the alcohol in the world and getting something you need... time off."

Thinking about the sheer incredulous ignorance being displayed by Colin, the Sheriff decides to politely correct the pig about how Fabletown actually works.

"Colin, what do you think happens if I take a day off? I'll give you a hint: it begins with _c_ and ends with _s_?" the Sheriff resists the chuckle sliding up from his throat. "I'm the only thing standing between us and the mundies- do you think Grendel could convince an entire gathering of mundies that they _didn't_ just witness a man get stabbed through the head and survive?"

"To be honest, Bigby, I'm very surprised that you can," the pig answers honestly, though with a barely concealed tint of mockery.

The Sheriff's brow furrows, somewhat in offence and somewhat in irritation.

Calming himself by gently taking out a packet of the horrifically smelly cigarettes he adores, he flicks open the lid, and with a quick but hard tap on the bottom of the box, he bites down on the raised cigarette like a mother wolf would to a wayward cub.

Halting the pig before it incessantly demands one himself, the Sheriff appeases him and hands the Fable one of them, making sure to make a spectacle of it. After all, it's not often he abides Colin's requests without so much as a quip; he's simply far too exhausted and worn out to make an effort this time.

"Thanks, Bigby," the pig nods- a little more than an acknowledge, but less than gratitude.

Once, he would've salivated at the mere thought of having Colin this close and ripe for the taking. Then, he came to the forlorn conclusion Colin might be the only one this side of the law- barely- who is actually understanding, and similar to the Sheriff.

Both are teetering on the edge of being outcasts, not belong necessarily to Fabletown or the Farm. Instead, they fill a very particular social group.

The Fables no-one likes.

Even Ichabod Crane had his particular friends, and he was a cowardly creep with a penchant for rampant corruption and disturbing obsessions with women he clearly has no chance with.

Not like Bigby has much of a chance with any woman either.

After a few minutes of quiet reflection, his resistance caves in. Perhaps taking some time off would bring his life back into perspective at best, and keep him from throttling every single Fable in this damn town at worse.

"Let's do it."

"Bigby... this is the start of something special."


	3. Chapter I, Part I

**A/N**

 **Thanks for the patient wait guys, hopefully it shouldn't be too soon before I release the next part.**

* * *

 **Chapter I: A Swift Exit, Part I**

Yeah, he knew this would be a terrible idea, and it's shaping up as much so far. The fact of the matter is: turns out the Sheriff isn't supposed to pack up his bags and go on vacation without some form of permission.

So, long story cut short, him and Colin have been forced to hitch a ride with his mortal enemy.

"Do you shave your head, or do you wax it?" Colin asks.

"I'll shave your head clean off with my axe if you don't shut up," the Woodsman wittily retorts, uncharacteristically.

"Just askin'," the pig rolls his eyes.

"The airport. Why do you need to go to the airport?" Woody asks the forbidden question, scratching his head as though trying to figure out the answer himself. That, or he's attempting to magically regrow his hair follicular through stimulated touch.

"To get you some new clothes," Colin answers, avoiding the question with a jab. "I swear, is there something in your Fable which specially states you have to wear plaid shirts all the time?"

Funnily enough, this is one of the rare occasions the Woodsman has decided to wear a regular brown shirt, complete with dark brown trousers and shoes.

Noticing Bigby's examination, the Woodsman's cheeks start to turn a rosy red.

"I saw a stylist," he mumbles out of earshot of the pig, making sure only Bigby can hear his quiet voice.

 _Well... get another one_ , Bigby doesn't laugh, and only shakes his head disapprovingly, though a little bit of concern invades his thoughts. _Since when did Woody care about his appearance? He's barely shaved since the old days, and he certainly smells like he's thousands of years old, that's for sure._

"Wherever you're going, I want to come too," the Woodsman surprisingly offers to join them, and Colin gives Bigby a troublesome grin.

"Sure, we could use an extra pair of hands with our _Fabletown business_ ,"the pig cheekily winks at Bigby whilst accepting the offer.

Although Bigby has no clue what Colin is dastardly planning, if it still includes them getting the hell out of this place for a while, he'll roll with it for now.

"Can you tell me what this business is? Seems a bit weird for you and Colin to be going together, Bigby," the Woodsman smartly points out the oddness of the coupling, since technically, Colin belongs at the Farm.

"It's top-secret," Bigby responds, almost sighing as he witnesses Colin smirking from the corner of his eye, "Which means no questions."

"Sure," the driver replies, certainly not as assured as someone who accepts Bigby's explanation.

Great. Things just went from being exciting and refreshing to irritating; hopefully, this vacation will make itself a lot simpler when they get on the plane. All he wants is a nice peaceful escape.

No more fighting, no more moaning, and definitely a large amount of alcohol and smokes.

Colin can have his little plans for Woody, and Woody can have his own escape as well.

But, no-one is getting in the way of his vacation.

"Damn," Woody mutters, slowly bringing the car to a stop. "We got a Mundie checkpoint."

Scowling at Colin, Bigby makes an empathised finger over his lips, silently threatening the pig with his eyes. The last thing he needs is an incident with the local PD saying they saw a pig talk.

It takes a few moments before it's their turn to be inspected, and Bigby realised too late that Colin has a seatbelt on and is sat like a human would, which isn't exactly something mundies are used to seeing on a daily basis.

"License and registration, please," the cop peers into the drivers window, and when his eyes turn towards the back seats, it's pretty clear he's either confused or amused at the sight of a pig inside.

"That a pig?" the cop asks, staring at Colin incredulously. "With... a seatbelt on?"

"What? Can't a man have a friend in this world?" Bigby starts, preparing himself to play a wildcard. "How would you like it if your pet couldn't go anywhere without people like you making rude remarks about his weight and smell, huh? Yeah, he's a pig, but he's _my_ pig. If you have a problem with me having a pig, why don't you take a long, hard look at yourself in the mirror, and ask yourself 'how does the pig feel'."

An awkward silence drowns the car as Woody had stopped searching for his information when Bigby began his miniature rant, a faint ghost of an entertained smile haunting his lips.

"Uhh... just go on ahead," the cop confusedly mumbles, standing straight and going about his business with a look of sheer befuddlement on his face.

As they continue past the checkpoint, when out of earshot and sight of the police, Colin breaks out laughing, choking on thin air as he does. Even the Woodsman has an amused cough, shaking his head at the same time.

"Oh, Bigby, you are something," Colin wheezes, hand on his chest.

"What? I had to do something, and Mundies tend to get distracted when you act weird," the Sheriff defends his actions with an offended frown seared onto his forehead.

"You are a funny one, Bigby," Colin exhales.

"You won't be finding me funny when I strangle you to death," the wolf threatens, although fallen onto the deaf ears of the single most annoying Fable in history.

No wonder he keeps on escaping the Farm; perhaps, they simple get so annoyed with him, they just let him roam off and actually hope he never comes back.

That's what Bigby would do, anyway.

"Since when did interacting with mundies become your specialty?" Woody questions, intrigued.

"Since Snow is too 'busy' to keep mundies as far away from our business as possible, so that now falls to me," the Sheriff sighs. "If a Mundies decides to jog a different route one day and accidentally witnesses a troll peeking out from the sewers, guess who has the amazing responsibility of dealing with them?"

"They should make a TV show about you... and call it, 'The Mundy whisperer'," Colin jokes.

"Keep talking Colin, and maybe you'll eventually become funny."


	4. Explanation

Basically, I'm adding this to all my ongoing stories to give some form of explanation as to where I've gone. Well, here it is.

My computer's hard drives broke. Yep, I had about three stories pretty much done on that drive, and poof, gone like that. No warning, no insurance... bam.

Unfortunately, I hadn't uploaded the chapters to this site or any other storage site, so I've had to pretty much do things from scratch. At the moment, I've redone the plans, and some of what was destroyed, but I've still got a long way to go.

For now, I'm going to try and somehow regain some semblance of order by making a structure for uploads. At the moment, I'm thinking of doing an ABC plan.

Where A is Week 1, B is Week 2, and C is Week 3.

Week A is- hopefully- Young Justice.

Week B is Wolf Among Us.

Week C is... well, a surprise for any Star Wars fans.

Now, I know I've been sporadic, and lazy at worst, but I hope I can turn this around for anyone still left reading this stuff.

That's about it, and I'd best get writing.


	5. Chapter I, Part II

**Chapter I: A Swift Exit, Part II**

"Airport security," Bigby Wolf mumbles, looking around the airport at the various blue-clothed members of staff. "And I thought I was hated."

"These guys take it to a whole other level," the Woodsman agrees, slightly kicking the his bag whilst trying not to draw attention to himself.

From Bigby's eyes, he's doing an absolutely terrible job. "You know, being a mundie at the airport means being either stressed or happy, and you look like you're about to have a mental breakdown because your wife left you and you need to get her back."

"What?" the Woodsman raises his eyebrow. "I'm not doin' anything."

 _How did I get stuck with these two morons?_ the Sheriff rubs his forehead at the stupidity.

"Exactly."

Anyway, with all the distractions, the Sheriff didn't notice that the terminal had now opened and jubilant passengers were now cramping through the narrow gates to board the aircraft. The Wolf guesses that mundies are usually quite excited to go on airplanes, for some odd reason.

"Let's go, before any of these *ssholes decide it's time for a little chat," Bigby commands, pushing the Woodsman forward with his hand. "Just let me do the talking alright, I'm guessing that the only mundie women you've spoken to are prostitutes."

Bigby hears a quiet chuckle from inside of the Woodsman's hand luggage, and he himself gives a good kick. "Shut it, Colin."

Approaching the final obstacle to their much-needed vacation, Bigby notices the woman giving them a good looking over, eyes narrowing. But, deciding that nothing is going to stop him now, and certainly not a mundie, he powers on anyway, halting right infront of the woman.

Susan, as the name tag on her chest suggests.

"Hi Susan," the Sheriff smiles, though he notices the slight surprise on her face.

"Oh, thought by the looks of you that the two of you were tourists," she responds, a forced smile on her face too.

Perhaps the mundies aren't too different from Fables after all, since they both seem to share the ability to pretend to be nice to people you barely like.

"No, we are going on a business trip," Bigby says, passing over the tickets so the woman can have a check over them.

"Brilliant," Susan beams, passing the pieces of paper back, "Enjoy Cairo."

"Thanks," he gladly takes the documents, enjoying the prospect of not talking to the mundie for any longer than he needs to.

As they pass on by, he swears that he noticed her shake her head in confusion after they had left. Odd, but then again, he's noticed that the vast majority of the non-Fable population tend to be very weird, even by the standards of a former mass murderer turned law-enforcing Sheriff of a community of myths and legends.

"That was easy," Woody comments, pulling in the Colin-holding bag a little bit closer to himself. "Thought that we'd be talked to a lot more."

"She's a mundie, Woody, she probably barely even likes her job. And you, either."

"Guess you have that in common," the Woodsman retorts, giving the Sheriff a content tap on the shoulder as they board the plane.

It took them a while to find their seats, in between shutting up Colin as he attempts to give them directions to the best seats on the plane, and not having a single clue how the seating arrangements on planes work. The mundie alphabet becomes a lot more difficult when weaving between crying children and elderly passengers taking an eternity to place their bags above them.

After throwing Colin into the above compartment, both the Woodsman and the Sheriff slump into their seats, feeling a little bit embarrassed and anxious at the same time.

Still, they've made it. Time for them to have a little bit of fun.

Bigby has never come to this section of what the mundies call 'America' before, but Colin says it has good reviews, and is warm. So, guess he'll have to trust him in that regard.

"Cairo here we come."


	6. Apology

Hi all, not sure how to say this but believe that I may owe you all an explanation. I've spent the past few months dealing with a whirlwind of things and ended up neglecting the people who read these stories. At this point, not sure if anyone is left to read this anyway, so just wanted to let you know that I am sorry.

Hopefully, with things calming down I can finally carry on with what I love. These stories are both fun and therapeutic to me. If you're still here, I'd like to take the chance to thank you all for keeping the faith.

I want to reward that faith by delivering a fully consistent schedule beginning this weekend, so I hope you enjoy.

And again, thank you.


	7. Chapter II, Part I

**A/N**

 **Hi guys, as promised, I'm back and ready for action! This has been so much fun to write so far and I think I've done fairly well considering I've been doing it on the fly and not really planned many things out, though with the time off, I have had a chance to think over what will happen and maybe, I might just make this into a full-fledged trilogy/universe depending on how people feel.**

 **Without further adieu, hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter II: One Little Mistake, Part I**

"Now listen to me Bigby, this wasn't supposed to happen," the pig frantically pleads with the Sheriff.

That's an understatement. Funnily enough, it didn't dawn on the Sheriff that the irritating pig had booked a flight to a _whole other Mundie country_ until stepping out of the airport. For one, the heat was a pleasant surprise, but the interesting concoction of sounds these Mundies use to communicate is another matter entirely.

Woody doesn't seem too annoyed by the developments, shielding his eyes from the sun whilst watching out for anyone curious enough to wonder what was happening in this warm, stinky alleyway.

"Luckily for you, they don't eat pig here," the Sheriff retorts.

This is a dilemma and a half.

Trapped in a weird place, filled with even stranger mundies than back home, along with having to deal with the Woodsman and Colin on his back for the ride. A part of him wants to call Snow and be done with the vacation, though it could hardly be called that so far.

"You wouldn't do that anyway Bigby, let's be honest here," Colin cheekily smirks, perhaps forgetting the situation he finds himself in.

The Woodsman turns back to look at the two before returning his gaze to down the alley. "I say we dump him on the nearest farm and have some fun," Woody chuckles. "If they even have any farms."

Taking a moment to contemplate how many ways he could make the pig suffer, the Sheriff eventually caves in, "Shit Colin, might as well make the most out of it."

Breathing a long sigh of relief, Colin apologetically shrugs.

"Listen Big Bad, if I would have told you, would you have come along?" Colin states his case, following in line behind Bigby, nudging his heels like the pest he is.

"No," the Sheriff admits, nodding to the Woodsman.

"Now that's settled, why don't we go to the..." the Woodsman begins to shepherd the two out of the alley before stumbling on his words, mouth grasping for the Mundie word, though it eludes him for quite some time.

"Hotel, plaid, hotel," Colin intervenes, clearly distressed from observing the large man struggle. "What have I gotten myself into?" the pig mumbles under his breath.

Rolling up his sleeves even further than usual, Bigby wipes the sweat of his brow with his forearm and wipes it on the pig. Colin obviously doesn't appreciate it, but doesn't dare to challenge the Sheriff at this point.

For many mundies, Bigby assumes the heat would be welcomed with open arms. However, when the Sheriff used to be a hulking beast of a wolf- with all the fur it entails- it's fair to assume Bigby isn't as pleased to be in this climate, mostly through old habits sake.

Turns out, Cairo is quite a beautiful place to walk through, assuming the fable ignores the way the drivers almost crash every time they attempt to turn a corner. Also, he's fairly certain that the Mundie's have an aggressive side to them, taking into account the way they peddle their goods by literally shoving them into his face whenever he becomes within a few hundred feet of their stalls.

With some careful conversations and luck, the 'hotel' soon comes into their view.

"See, this is what mundies call _five-_ star," Colin proudly comments, making sure to stare at the hotel as though he built it himself.

"That's bad, right?" Woody responds, "I thought there's ten stars."

"Not with these _hotels,_ you see. With these, it's only _five,_ so we are practically living the high life," Colin explains, though quickly adds to his explanation upon seeing the Woodsman open his mouth. "Before you ask, I don't know why it only goes up to five and the rest is ten... mundies are _weird,_ who knows why they do this stuff."

"Can't argue with that," Bigby agrees, although judging by the Woodsman face and posture, he isn't satisfied with Colin's answer.

Inside of the hotel is equally as elegant and classy as the outside, adoring with marble pillars and expensive furniture. If anything, it only reminds Bigby how mundies love their shiny things as much as fables do.

Gold watches, treasures beyond imagination, magic mirrors - fables and mundies aren't too different when it comes to greed and materialism.

"Bigby Wolf... room for two," the Sheriff talks to the receptionist, who is quite intrigued at the sight of Colin.

"I'm sorry, pets aren't allowed," the woman forces a smile.

 _Wow, Mundies are all the same. Can they just not smile for a change?_ Bigby wonders to himself before responding.

"Ah come on, he's not going to hurt anyone. He doesn't bite... often."

Unassured by Bigby, the receptionist examines the three for a brief time before answering in her unusual accent.

"Sure. But, it will be an extra three hundred dollars, purely for insurance in the event the room needs... cleaning," the woman offers.

Feeling something nudging hard against his ankle, he looks down to see Colin discreetly gesturing towards his bag.

Bending down and looking inside, Bigby's eyes come across one particular rectangle-shaped piece of apparatus that he has become familiar with over the years. Being a fan of notes himself, he doesn't personally carry on of these cards, so it comes as no shock to find one name imprinted on the front of the card.

 _Fuck, he stole Snow's card,_ Bigby mentally sighs, though hands over the card and gives the woman the security code which Snow White conveniently gave Bigby to remember once whilst she was doing something important.

"Maybe it's best that we make the most of this vacation," Woody says to Bigby, clearly noticing the name on the card. "She's going to kill you."

"Yeah... add her name to the list."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **There it is folks, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Shenanigans are on the way so watch out!**

 **Feel free to ask me anything you want, I'd be happy to help.**

* * *

 **P:S - For any DC fans out there, I'm looking to create my very own shared universe with a few other authors. So, if you feel like working in conjunction with others to create this universe with me, please contact me!**


	8. Chapter II, Part II

**A/N**

 **Yeah boys, here's another one to throw at you. It's coming a bit out of schedule, but rest assured there will also be one of Sunday as well!**

* * *

 **Chapter II: One Little Mistake, Part II**

The damn chair creaks.

Great.

Just what the stressed Sheriff of Fabletown needed on his already destroyed vacation - a broken chair.

It's not even that the chair itself is rickety and on the verge of snapping the moment Bigby's moderately-sized body grazes the wooden surface. It's that every single chair, bed, and floorboard sounds as though they will be taking a plunge into the well just by stepping on it too hard.

Well, there is only one person to blame for all this. He's bidedal, his name begins with a 'C' and he stinks really bad.

"Colin!"

"What did I do now Bigby?" the pig sighs, resigning himself to the fate of being threatened, chastised and downright belittled by the Sheriff once more.

"You just had to do it," Bigby begins, "all I needed was a few days to sort myself out and _relax_ and you couldn't even get us a room which has decent furniture!"

"The brochure left that bit out," Colin shrugs, looking to the Woodsman for assitance, who shrugs himself.

"Can you even read Colin!?"

The mere fact the pig takes a moment to think about this question makes Bigby's blood boil to a temperature he could probably cook Colin in.

"Moderately," Colin answers.

"Moderately," Bigby repeats, shaking his head. "Can moderately what? Moderately not be an asshole?"

"Maybe that's a bit unfair Bigby, the pig was just trying to help you out," the Woodsman finally speaks up.

"That's the thing.. he's not even a real pig," Bigby continues his tirade, much to the mild amusement of the Woodsman and the tentativeness of Colin. " _Real_ pigs are supposed to be eaten.. and I can't even do that!"

"You did eat my brothers though, Bigby," Colin jokes, attempting to somewhat calm the Sheriff down. "Nowadays, the only thing you're huffing and puffing on are those cigarettes of yours."

"They _are_ good though," the Woodsman comments.

"I know. Ate a full packet of them once thinking they were those things the mundies like to eat. Never again."

The brief exchange between the Woodsman and Colin does nothing but further aggravate the Sheriff, who much to the approval of Colin pulls out a packet of his favourite smokes, pulling one out for himself. It doesn't take long for him to pre-emptively succumb to Colin, and he passes a lighted one to the fable.

Despite what all the mundies say about smoking, it isn't too bad for Bigby. It gives himself something to focus on when he's angry or thinking, and when he's just feeling that little bit overwhelmed, there's no better feeling than whipping one out and lighting it.

The only thing which could surpass it at this point would be to wring the neck of everyone who slightly annoyed him, but that's what Snow White calls 'destructive behaviour' - she didn't believe that when he burnt down a very magical tree for her, but he'd never actually going to bring it up in order to simply prove a point.

Bigby ain't that kind of fable.

Colin might.

He's what the mundies call a _jerk._ Bigby has heard the humans describe someone as a jerk on multiple occasions. No-one who is nice has ever been called a jerk, so therefore Colin must be a jerk.

 _Mundies have some weird words,_ the Sheriff wonders to himself in astoundment.

"Okay, so I might have got the room wrong," Colin eventually admits. "But, there's still plenty of things that I, Colin the pig, has got right. Including - but not limited to - sightseeing, hookah bars, and of course hookah's of a different kind, if you know what I mean."

The Woodsman begins to happily grin, obviously quite interested in what the tour guide has to offer.

"No way, Woody. Not after what happened with the last one," Bigby snips off his excitement before the Woodsman ends up winding up on the nearest prostitute.

"I'm a changed man, Sheriff."

"Her face had changed too," Bigby retorts, much to the dismay of the Woodsman, who gives up and shakes his head in disappointment.

Of course, Bigby could give the Woodsman another chance at proving he is a relatively decent Fable nowadays, but there's no fun in giving him what he wants. The great and mighty Woodsman is going to learn who the boss is, whether he's amiable with Bigby or not.

If anything, the Sheriff is providing him with an opportunity for redemption Bigby hadn't really offered anyone else. Maybe it's the personal connection the two have - having your belly sliced open with an axe does let to a healthy friendship after all. Mother was right.

"I'll bite," Bigby sighs. "What are these 'activities' you have planned, and do they include me having to play Sheriff?"

"That's thing Bigby, we are here to just be ourselves! You won't have to play Sheriff! If you want, you can even be a criminal for a change!"

Colin's voice booms around the room with pride and anticipation, giving everyone the impression he is on the verge of exploding with excitement. Bigby is certain he even heard a quiet squeal from the pig, though it can be chalked down to Bigby's own limited imagination. Bigby doesn't want to entertain the notion Colin could squeal.

"It's settled then," the Woodsman bursts out of his chair. "Hookah And Hookah's it is!"

"Come on, Bigby, what's the worst that could happen?"

* * *

 **A/N**

 **There you go again my friends, this little story I started doing for my own entertainment is officially still entertaining for me. Thought I'd give up by now, but nope, still here.**

 **Here forever.**


	9. Chapter III, Part I

**A/N**

 **Thanks for your patience guys, here's another one. Not sure how long this will be since I'm still improvising it really, but hopefully we are about one-third of the way through. It won't be a long book, just a silly one really.**

* * *

 **Chapter III: Chaos is the better part of.. chaos?, Part I**

"Everyone, can you please calm down!?"

Snow's panicked commands are drowned out by a chorus of baying fables, each and everyone one wanting something different but something similar at the same time.

All of them want to speak with the Sheriff about something bad which has happened to them - a Mundie called them an idiot, or another Fable threatened to tell everyone their story was a lie. However, all of them have unfortunately been refused by the simple fact Snow White doesn't even know where the Big Bad Wolf is at the moment.

The Mayor of Fabletown doesn't even know where her own Sheriff is. Ichabod Crane would be proud.

"All of you will be seen to, but I need to speak one-on-one so I know what the problem is!"

Again, no positive response from the ever-growing crowds. If anything, they seem to be ignoring her on purpose, instead relishing in the opportunity to cause some hassle now they know the Sheriff has been missing for some time. She tried to keep them unaware for as long as possible, but tightknit communities such as these tend to spread rumours within the matter of hours.

She probably shouldn't have told Beauty that Bigby is missing, because she then told her husband, and on goes the cycle.

"Our problems can only be solved by Bigby!" one of the crowd yells out to the approval of the others, and Snow White recognises the voice as one of the more troublesome members of the community.

Tweedle-dee will take any opportunity to cause some mischief, and they can get away with it without any broken bones or bloody noses with the Sheriff not around.

"Dee, get your brother and go home please," Snow attempts to somewhat cool the situation down, but no-one inside the crowds makes a move for the exit. "Fine. If this is how you want to play it, how about we settle this the old-fashioned way?"

Nothing. No-one even bothered to listen.

"I _said,_ how about we solve this THE OLD FASHIONED WAY!"

Silence.

 _There we go_ , Snow muses to herself. Finally, some room to talk and solve the situation.

"I get it, okay, Bigby solves a lot of the problems you are faced with. Since he is not here, we'll do things how they used to be done," Snow begins, nodding for Mufkin to retrieve the one thing they need to help solve this situation. "I want all of you to stay quiet and form an orderly line.. anyone who doesn't do so.. I'll be adding you all to a _special_ list for Bigby when he comes back."

Listening to her for what seems as though the first time in the past few days, the group que up and wait for the Magic Mirror to be brought to Snow's desk. Mufkin takes as long as he usually does before dropping the Mirror down on the desk with a loud thump.

"Thanks Mufkin, but be a bit more gentle next time," the Mayor thanks the winged, green monkey and he flies off to find some alcohol to drink as usual. "Stay away from the whiskey, please."

"Now," she begins, turning to the fist person in line. "Johann the Butcher, the mirror is all yours."

Nodding in acknowledgment, the cheery butcher strolls forwards and stares into the mirror. Flashing into life, the mirror looks back at his with disgust.

"How can I help? As long as you keep those grubby fingers from my gleaming surface," the mirror sighs.

"Well, the Tweedle twins came into my butchery, and I thought it would be for their usual purchases. Little did I know, they came to me and said if I don't provide a discount on my fabletown-famous sausages - yours for five dollars by the way.. if you wasn't a mirror - they would find where I get my meat and spit it in! Spit in it! How disgusting!"

For a second, the mirror contemplates the situation. Snow White isn't certain the mirror knows how to respond, and her fears come to reality as the mirror gives a blunt and equally frustrating response.

"I'm done."

With that, the mirror retreats into itself. Surprisingly, Snow didn't believe it was an even possible for the Mirror to refuse to give a response a perfectly reasonable scenario. Guess the mirror is as inpatient as the rest of Fabletown recently.

"Don't worry, we'll find another way!" Snow White forces a smile.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **As always, thanks for reading guys and may the silliness continue for as long as necessary for the survival of my sanity!**


	10. Chapter III, Part II

**A/N**

 **Welcome back everyone! I hope you are enjoying 2019 so far, and if not, I hope this changes for you.**

* * *

 **Chapter III: Chaos is the better part of... chaos?, Part II**

That happened.

A magical mirror which only has one serious use in it's entire fable decided enough was enough and dipped out on them. First the Sheriff of the town and now the mirror, Snow is starting to wonder whether some kind of infection is running through the town which is turning fables mad.

Fables aren't _supposed_ to simply refuse to do what their entire fable was designed around, especially when things are getting so rowdy around the town. More and more mundies are beginning to take notice of their presence and more of them are slipping through Snow's grasp. Bigby's responsibilities include making sure mundies are controlled and generally avoid the town, but with him gone, more of them are walking around and seeing things they shouldn't.

Making glamours cheaper was the best decision Snow has ever made in her increasingly unstable position as Mayor of Fabletown, and it's saying nothing at all really when it's the only decision she has made so far. Indecisiveness is a trait Snow didn't want to inherit from her predecessor, but with the extra weight on her shoulders she can take no decision for granted.

"You okay?" Beauty asks, hand still outstretched with the documents Snow asked her to hand over a few moments ago. "Lost in thought?"

"Something along those lines," Snow answers, taking the documents and throwing them onto the table. Shaking her head, she refuses to even glance over the entire list of requests the citizens of Fabletown has thrown their way. "Let me guess: I want a new Mayor."

"They want someone fired, just not you," Beauty answers, flipping over the first page and showing Snow the first request.

The immediate sacking of a one Bigby Wolf as the Sheriff of Fabletown for excessive violence, intimidation and for fouling the atmosphere with those incredibly stinky cigarettes - quite the request. Looking at the name at the bottom, her eyes widen and she stares at Beauty.

"Beast?" she asks.

"Doesn't like Bigby that much," Beauty shrugs her shoulders at the Mayor. "Can you blame him? Bigby ripped the head off the Crooked Man without a second thought."

"After the Crooked Man tried to throw him down the well," Snow attempts to reason with the fable but she simply shrugs again.

Sure, Bigby might have gone over the top by removing the Crooked Man's ugly head from his shoulders, but everyone does things in the heat of the moment. Some fables just... have much more violent tendencies in those moments than others.

"Never mind, what's the next one?" Snow moves past the request, trying not to think too much about it.

Seeing the words on the page, she almost gags in disgust. "Make Thursdays lingerie only? Who the hell decided that was a good idea?"

"The twins," Beauty answers, almost as disgusting as Snow herself.

"Of course," Snow mumbles under her breath, already taking a break from the requests and walking off in the opposite direction.

Slumping into the nearest chair and pouring her a drink from the bottle on the table top next to it, she wonders whether Bigby is even thinking about them wherever he is. The wolf is more than likely getting blackout drunk in some rundown bar and causing trouble for the sake of it, whilst Snow is sat here pondering whether to end his employment.

Termination of employment within Fabletown is messy, considering the fable is always around anyway since they live here.

"Fire him, what's the worst which could happen? If anything, you'd be doing him a favour."

Despite Sleeping Beauty being quite adamant there would be no consequences to the decision, Snow is unsure. Snow's relationship with Bigby has been undoubtedly strained recently, considering she still hasn't forgiven him for the incident with the Crooked Man and he's been distant in their conversations.

"Bigby has one thing in the town and that's his job. Without it, him and the Woodsman will be at each other's throats from now until the end of time," Snow reasons more with herself than with Beauty. "It's better to let him keep everyone in line."

"No one keeps Bigby in line Snow and that's the problem," Beauty counters, taking the drink from Snow's hand and drinking it herself. "Do I have to remind you of what happened with Beast?"

"Beast did attack him first."

"You have an answer for everything when it comes to Bigby Wolf Mayor, and I don't know why."

"Neither do I Beauty, neither do I."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Here's another one guys so hope you enjoy, I've been enjoying myself recently so thank you all for being apart of that.**


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